A Pinteresting Tumbl of a Day

And this girl went to the midnight showing. Oh yes. Be jealous.

Pin it here (x).

Just a bit on Christmas

I've written before about Christmas.
About songs that annoy me and some present mishaps.
But past all the tinsel that's actually pretty easy to clean up, there's something else.
Why do we buy gifts for people?
To prove we love them?
Because it's socially demanded?
In hopes that they bought you something at least as cool / useful / expensive as you bought them?
Or because we really want to give them a gift as God gave us a gift on Christmas?

There are people who are having skinny Christmases this year.
There are people giving gifts of meals, partial tuition, car repairs, and new clothes for work or school this year.
There are people who literally have nothing to give to the ones who mean the most to them.
But we can all give something.
This thing isn't material.
It costs you nothing, so it fits any budget.
And it won't be forgotten by New Year's Day.

Give the gift God gave us.

Give the gift of sacrificial love.
(And I'm not just preaching at you, I'm talking about me, too.)

Love the people who love you.
Love the people who annoy you to death.
Love the people who make your life more difficult.
Love the people who are a bit prickly.
Love the people close to you, because you see them every day.
Love the people you'll probably only see once, because it means more than you might know.
Love the people who think they are unlovable.

We certainly were.

"While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."
Romans 5:8b

A Pinteresting Tumbl of a Day

Thus will I expire.

Pin it here (x).

The Finals are Coming

Here it is.
The week all students dread:
FINALS WEEK.

It's that week in the semester when BOOM everyone shows up again and you're just sitting in class like "I thought everyone had dropped this class".
It's that time when everyone - students and professors alike - are just so tired that everything is funny. Not seems funny. Is funny.
For example, one of my classmates was tossing an object into the air and catching it during one of our classes. Wasn't bothering anyone. Suddenly our professor turns around and does a double take.
"Is that a hard boiled egg?"
My friend and I started laughing hysterically as our classmate just stared at him.
"No. . . "
"What is that?"
"It's lip balm. . ."
"Oh okay."
"Do you have something against hard hard boiled eggs?"
"I really do not like hard boiled eggs."
"Okay. . ."
Our class was not the same that day.

And here is a haiku about finals:
I can't remember
I learned this four months ago
No no no no no

This is not an overreaction.
Trust me, it is not.

Why Newbs Shouldn't Shop with Vets

(Just a note before we begin: I'm talking about newbs here as opposed to n00bs.)

You've just put away the turkey.
The kitchen's cleaned up.
You shuffle to your bedroom and pull your pj's out of the drawer and---
"LET'S GO!"
Someone in your living room is grabbing their purse and running out the door before coming back and getting a binder full of coupons.
You shrug.
Well, okay, you think. How bad can it be?

Oh my giddy aunt.

Let's just say that next year I'm going to sleep Thursday night and I'm not going to wake up until noon on Friday.

My sister is a veteran Black Friday shopper. She's crazy good at getting good deals on like, everything, and that's awesome.

The problem is that I am not. I hit a few stores and then I'm done.

Not so with the Vet.

She spent TWO FULL HOURS in a single store alone! Granted, most of that was probably the line, but still! I wouldn't know what to do with myself in a store for an hour!

I seriously don't know how she does that.

I think she's magic.

We left our house around 7:30 Thursday night and came back Friday morning at about 9.

Never. Again.

Next year, I am going to bed like a normal person on Thursday night and I'm not getting up till noon on Friday.

But, for those of you who do the whole Cyber Monday thing, Pikcal is having an awesome sale: you can get 20% off your order with the promo code "blogcard20". That's off greeting cards, calendars, photo books, you name it!

May your shopping be happier than mine was!

You Are a Failure

We all have those days when we feel like our brains have stopped working, we can't do anything right, and all our past sins and mistakes just seem like they're hovering over us, waiting for us to fall again.
We all have those days when we feel like utter failures.
The thing we have to realize, though, is that when the world tells us we're great and smart and gonna succeed, they may be right in a sense, but it's a lie.
We have to realize that we are failures.
But here's the key -- we're failures apart from God.
What can a fallen, sinful person do on their own?
Fail. Time and time and time again.
But what about a person filled with God, trusting in Him for everything?
They may fall occasionally, but they will be victorious for His glory.
That's not to say they never feel like they can't do it. That's not to say that they never feel guilty about things they've done or opportunities they've passed up.
The difference is that they admit that and thank God for loving them anyway.
And God loves failures.
And once He changes them and lives in them, they're not failures anymore.
They're victors.

A Pinteresting Tumbl of a Day

I cheated.

This isn't from Pinterest or Tumblr, but it's a little late and too hard to try and incorporate "Quora" into the title of this series, so yeah.

This is basically the coolest thing I've seen all day week month year ever.

And it's people like this that make me wish I'd kept on in math and piano.

Find the whole thread here.

On Medical Conditions. . .

No, I haven't changed my mind and become a nursing major.

I'm still an English major.

Yet this is a unique merging of the two realms.

I don't know if any nurses or doctors have actually seen this, but I have, and it's terrifying enough to me.

And yes, this is sort of a grammar rant.

Alzheimer's Disease

I cannot count how many times I've heard this butchered. I know I have very little to stand on, because I butcher words all the time, but I can say that I've never said this particular word this badly. 

Y'all, it is not "All-timers" Disease.

There is not a T in "Alzheimer's".

There just isn't.

Stop putting it there.

Please.

Diabetes

Okay, I saw this on Tumblr, so there's no telling whether the poster was serious or just being funny, but "diabetes" is one word.

Just one.

It's not "die of beaties".

I realize it kind of sounds like that, but it's all together.

Lactose Intolerance

This one really takes the cake.

I'm not even really sure where that phrase comes from, but it's true.

I have seen this on Google searches.

On Facebook.

On Tumblr.

Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Granted, on Tumblr they all flipped out, but still.

People, this particular disorder where your body does not properly manufacture lactase and milk makes you gassy and nauseous is not "lack toast and tolerant".

I kid you not.

A "lack toast and tolerant" disorder means that you lack charred bread slices and are a very understanding person and for some reason you are not happy about this state of affairs.

But yeah.

This has been a PSA.

Being 21

Remember when you were a kid and you thought Sweet 16 was so far away? I mean, heck, Sleeping Beauty, Ariel, and Snow White were married at 16!

And then you turned 16 and you realized that you didn't know anything and what the heck were those girls thinking, getting married at 16?!

You just got your driver's licence!

You thought 18 was the thing. You could tackle anything when you were 18.

Until you turned 18.
Then you realized you totally do not have a handle on much at all.
The next milestone is 21.
21.
Where you can literally - and legally - do anything you want.
Within reason, obviously.
Well, let me tell you, Girls-younger-than-21, 21 is not what it's cracked up to be.
Yeah, you can basically do whatever you want . . . but with that said, there's a lot of responsibility on your shoulders.
I know a lot of gals my age - including myself - that would just love nothing more than to curl up with a tub of ice cream or and popcorn and watch Disney Princess movies all day.
And maybe a little a lot of Doctor Who.
But we can't.
We've got college.
We've got jobs.
We've got bills to pay, assignments due, and people counting on us to get things done.
That's not to say that we don't have moments of calm or just time to have fun and relax, but those moments don't come often.
Girls-younger-than-21, treasure your moments of freedom.
You might be bored, but another word for boredom is free.
And treasure the innocence.
And the simplicity.
Enjoy it while you can.
It's not going to last.

(Un)Happy Happenstance?

Sometimes everything goes just how you want it to.

And sometimes . . . okay, usually it probably doesn't.

That can't be the end of everything.

You can't let it beat you.

Beat it.

Try harder.

Change your plans to work with how things are now.

And win.

Who knows?

Things might turn out better this way. . .

When "Short" isn't Short Enough

This is not a sponsored post.

Old Navy is not one of my favorite stores.

Or at least, it wasn't until I realized they have the best jeans for me.

They've got different jeans for different body shapes, and that's great.

I love those jeans because they fit perfectly.

Except in one way . . .

I'm 5'2".

I guess their "short" jeans are based on somebody who must be the same size, but must be like, 5'6".

There are literally about 3-4 extra inches.

On a SHORT.

*sigh*

I went there the other day with my mom and sister, and I tried on some jeans that were nearly half-price with the Labor Day sale.

She brought in the size I was about 4 months ago and they were too big! which is awesome . . .

but they were also too long.

She went back for a smaller pair, and I told her that if they had "Hobbit" lengths, that would probably work.

They didn't.

But still.

Also, as a sidenote, I'm too tall to be a Hobbit.

I'm too tall to be a Dwarf.

I'm to short to be a Human.

I'm too short to be an Elf.

Yep, you're lookin' at the cutest Orc there is.

I wonder if they carry Orc-sized jeans. . . ?

Oopsie Daisies

I'm sure we've all had that one moment where we went: 

"Oh. Poop. I did not think that one through."

I know I have, and I'm brave enough to tell you about it.

It's utterly hilarious, but at the same time really . . . not.

So this summer, I was working full time and working out afterwards.

That meant I essentially had 10 hour "work" days.

Needless to say, after that, I'd be tired, and rarely up for silly shenanigans, though I'm generally total game for a good shenanigan.

I was house sitting for a lady I know and watching her dog. He was a really sweet old thing, but nearly blind and almost if not totally deaf.

She had an alarm system - it didn't work on this one specific door - so she didn't use it; it's a pretty safe neighborhood.

Remember that. It's important later.

So every morning I'd let the dog out to do his business in the side yard, and every night I'd do the same thing when I came home.

Thing is, at night, this giant puppy would set off the motion-detecting light. It would turn on then off then on then off ad nauseam. 

It drove me nuts.

Well, on my third or fourth night there, I let the dog out and noticed that the light didn't turn on.

Whatever.

Well, the poor baby's deaf, so I had to go outside to get him; he wouldn't be able to hear me calling for him.

I go out there, all the way out to the end of the yard, and coax him in, and that light still doesn't cut on.

I still don't really care.

As soon as we get inside, the light snaps on.

And stays on.

Yeah, NOW I care.

See,

No, not of rational things that could actually inflict bodily harm.

Of Aliens (yes, capital A), the Flood, krakens, spiders, plesiosaurs, and other such monstrous calamities.

I legitimately prayed to not be the first ten minutes of Supernatural.

Yeah, I was freaking out.

I tried a few switches and decided there was really nothing I could do about it, so I went to bed, thinking I could ignore that infernal flashing outside my windows.

Ha.

Nope.

So I get up - and by this point it's about 12:30, 1 am - and I try the switches again.

None are connected to it.

I go outside to see if there's anything I can put in front of the sensor to make it shut the heck off.

There's not.

By this point, I'm really scared that someone's figured out I was staying there alone with an old, deaf doggie and they were out in the bushes waiting for me to give up and forget to lock the door.

I called my dad - who was 2 blocks away - and start blubbering (not crying, just tired, scared blubbering) about not being able to shut the light off and hence not being able to sleep.

For having been woken up at like, 1 am, he was incredibly gracious about the whole thing.

He offered to come over and check it out, and I figured it couldn't do any harm, so asked him to yes please, please come over, thank you, Daddy.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulls in and we begin our investigation.

We tried every. Switch. In. The. House.

Downstairs and upstairs.

Nothing.

By this point, the light seemed permanently on, so I got the brilliant idea of looking at the alarm panel.

See, there's a button there that said "motion".

I figured that maybe if I cycled through it real quick it'd turn it off.

Right. . . 

So, I push the button.

IT ARMS THE SYSTEM.

Yeah, so at this point, I'm feeling utterly defeated and I tell my dad he can go ahead and go home - I don't know the code because she doesn't use the system.

He says okay, goes through the living room to turn off the lights and-----

Now, I'd like to say I was cool and confident and merely went:

Um, no.

Try this on for size:

Yeah, that was the worst ten minutes of my life.

I tried calling her, texting her, punching in common pass codes.

Nothing.

Did I mention that by this point it was about 2 in the morning?

About five minutes into the alarm going off, I wondered "Where are the cops?" but either way they weren't there, so it didn't matter.

It ended up shutting off on its own, so my dad left through the door that doesn't work anyway.

About two minutes after he left, the house phone rings.

IT'S THE LADY.

I answer, and apologize profusely for waking her up so early.

She too was very gracious about the whole ordeal, but then confessed that she wasn't sure if she knew the code either.

Thankfully, she did.

She asked what had happened, and I told her.

Apparently, that light is just possessed, and there's really nothing that can be done about it.

It was about five minutes into the call that I noticed lights at the back of the house.

No sound, just lights.

And being that I was now basically alone, whomever it was could have just slept there, because as we all know:

Anyway, it turned out to be a cop.

Good thing I was still on the phone with the homeowner -- she got me out of a mountain of trouble.

I never did figure out how he was summoned, exactly.

I don't think it was dispatch.

Must've been a neighbor.

Ha, bet they loved me.

Anyway, after he left, the homeowner and I just kind of stood there in shock.

"How long ago did the alarm go off?"

". . . About 20 minutes ago. . ."

Yeah.

Needless to say, I was basically useless on 4-5 hours of not-so-awesome sleep.

And that is the story of how I awakened a neighborhood and learnt the lesson that if you don't know what it does, don't touch it.